By the following morning we find that Brad had been wondering around the station for the better part of a half hour looking for the directors office, having just arrived overnight as well. There was, however, an appalling lack of signage on the station. From a distinct lack of a directory. To missing evacuation pods. Even the exit signs were missing, no doubt the work of copper thieves. Then of course there were the dreary walls, and in a few places something that looked disturbingly like blood stains. "My Eris what did I get myself into here." Brad muttered to no one in particular, once again finding himself at an unlit dead-end of a corridor.
Sighing loudly before continuing on in a different direction Brad's mutter rose to something that might resemble a rasp, the same sort of rasp that one might have after smoking for decades. "and where is the director, asks me to show up and present myself, but to what or who is anyone's guess." His voice dropped out, he had turned down another nondescript corridor and was pleasantly surprised to find light casting itself out of a room, although slightly worryingly the door appeared to be hanging on by one of its hinges, about to collapse onto the floor. An apt description of the stations sturdiness as a whole. Brad stretched out a hand to knock on the clinging doorframe before thinking better of it.
"Uh," Brad cleared his throat momentarily before continuing by calling into the open doorframe "KNOCK KNOCK, anybody home?"
